Walk This World
by Eva Haley
Summary: The events of the series told through Hannah Abbott's eyes, from before Philosopher's Stone to long after Deathly Hallows. INCOMPLETE


**Just to do the whole prelude thing here... I don't own Harry Potter or any characters etc etc, I'm just a fan, in particular of the House of Hufflepuff who get forgotten quite a bit.**

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Nostalgia, beautiful damn nostalgia. When you do something once again for the sake of old times, because you miss the old days, because you didn't know what you had back then until you revisit it. Of course, we weren't revisiting it by chance. No, I don't believe that for a second. We were all there because we had to be. We were meant to be. Even with all that happened that night, I still believe in that, as painful as it is. It felt like we were all supposed to be there, like we'd been preparing for it all of our lives and in a way, we had. Running with them felt like the greatest thing. We had no idea what would happen next, but we ran blindly into it knowing that nothing else mattered except that night.

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All of those stories that mum told me as a kid, the ones about the big bad, that I'd always thought were stories - in them there was a character who had fought against the big bad's friends a few times and mum would always know the spells and incantations the character had used. I'd always thought they were stories until I became more and more aware of the hushed talks that occurred in the kitchen after I'd gone to bed. I was an only child and dad had cleared off when I was younger, so it was just me and mum. She never spoke his name, always seeming bitter about it and I began to understand after hearing some of the hushed conversations.

Often the visiting voice would be different, though I became aware of three or so key people. There would always be the familiar rushing sound of Floo powder from the fireplace, followed by my mother and the stranger saying something to ensure that each was who they said they were. I caught a few names but I still remember that one night at the age of ten, lying awake and listening, when I realised that all of those stories about the big bad probably weren't stories. And it scared me.

There had been the usual rushing sound and my mother had spoken first.

"G'evening 'Dora," she had said, after the usual rushing sound had passed (and how I wish I could hear that voice again).

"Lucinda," the young voice was one of concern, as steps shuffled out of the fireplace. "Moody said you wanted me here."

"Wait." Mum had said suddenly, the edge of caution she always had when confirming her visitors were who they said they were. "Prove that you're 'Dora".

"But-" 'Dora began with an air that was not quite an adult, but certainly not a teenager.

"No buts," Mum had laughed. It was a laugh that was infectious, that made you feel like smiling when you heard it. She didn't laugh often before she died.

"Oh, alright..." Dora had agreed. "When I first joined the Order, I used the Body-Binding spell to stop poor Elphias raising his hand to volunteer."

"Very nicely done, I will add 'Dora," Mum approved of this answer, evidently as there was the sound of two people sitting down.

"Well... someone had to stop him getting all the fun. Anyway... the matter at hand?"

"Yes... I need to ask something." Mum had said, her tone changed completely and Dora picked up on this.

"Sure, shoot." Dora tried to sound calm, but was a little apprehensive.

"Quite a big favour, actually."

"Tickets to see the Weird Sisters? You know I can get those dirt cheap..." Dora tried to lighten the atmosphere, but it didn't work.

Mum inhaled slowly and sighed, like she was steadying herself, her breathing was audible from my room after all of the years of smoking muggle cigarettes. Benny, her pet owl had kicked the bucket after developing a wheezy cough - poor bugger.

"I wish it was that simple, Nymphadora."

"Luce, what is it? I'll help you out as much as I can, whatever it is."

"I need you to..." There was a long silence and I wondered if mum had cast a silencing charm at the ceiling. "I need you to promise me something".

"Ok..."

"I need you to guarantee me that should something happen to me you'll look after my Hannah." Mum had said, a desperate tone emanating around the room below, followed by an awful silence.

"You know I will-"

"Would you make an Unbreakable Vow on it?" Mum had said suddenly and I knew 'Dora had been taken aback as a further silence followed.

"If..." Dora's voice waivered. "If it makes you feel she'll be safer, then of course I will... but wouldn't a greater wizard or witch be better?"

"Dora," Mum said with great certainty. "You _are_ a great witch."

"Thanks... but why now? Has something happened?" 'Dora spoke quieter than previously, and I tried to breathe as little as possible so as to hear as much as I could.

"See... I believe..." Mum was struggling now, becoming upset and I was about to learn why.

"It's alright..." 'Dora said a little awkwardly.

"It isn't. If Rowle should do something wrong in You-Know-Who's eyes, and he's told him that he had a daughter..." My heart sank and I was overwhelmed with that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. "He will come for Hannah; and you know it."

This was the moment I became aware that my real father was a Death Eater, one of the big bad's friends. I remember feeling dizzy, sick and confused as well as hurt. The shock was awful and my mind wiped the rest of that night away, like water from a duck's back. And, perhaps it was here that I developed my worrying habits. I was terrified from then on that I would become like _him_. I never told mum that I knew, and I wish I had. She might've been able to put my mind at rest sooner. But I didn't dwell on that.

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My letter arrived on my 11th birthday to let me know I was going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It felt like an achievement for me, because mum was proud. I knew it was standard, that every magical child in the British Isles would be going at some point, but making mum proud made me feel proud and was, if only for my late childhood and early teenage years all that I really needed. I did my best wherever I could, very determined not to be like _him_. I dreamed of all of the things I could be after I'd finished Hogwarts, with perfect grades.

I'd dream of playing Quidditch for the Tutshill Tornados. I had a poster of Roderick Plumpton's 3.5 second snitch capture, (the photo taken after he'd caught it) blu-tacked above my bed. I did try my hand but it turned out I wasn't a very good seeker. My hand-eye co-ordination was dreadful where I'd shot-up suddenly at the age of 11 and turned into this gangly thing; my brain couldn't keep up. I managed to knock myself out by flying into the posts at the end of the pitch when I tried playing as Chaser. The position of Beater wasn't made for me either. I gave myself a nosebleed trying to pelt a Bludger, which I promptly missed and brought the bat straight into my face. Not. Clever. (I kicked Justin in the shin for laughing, though. At least I got to try out...).

And then I discovered I was actually alright at playing as Keeper. I think my height and the length of my limbs made it easier to block shots. I didn't get in as Keeper... but they made me substitute on the House team for when Wayne Hopkins was injured/couldn't be bothered to play... which was more than it probably should have been.

I don't think I could've been sorted into a better house. As good as it sounds to say you were in Gryffindor, they're a bit over-rated. Nice lot, I'm just saying that being a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw isn't a bad thing. Probably better, but I can't really say much being a Hufflepuff.

From that first train journey to Hogwarts, Ernie and I were friends. I'd met him a few times before when we'd been shopping in Diagon Alley, as mum had been good friends with Sarah MacMillan in their time at Hogwarts, so it gave us a little common ground to go on. His sense of humour was great and we used to have a laugh, but most of all he made sense. Our time at Hogwarts was certainly chaotic, and sometimes you just needed someone to talk to, to bring you back into contact with terra firma. I used to worry about everything and he used to tell me that I shouldn't worry so much with that reassuring smile of his.

It's not that I disliked the rest of my classmates. I adored them dearly. It's just what people say about Hufflepuff is true about ninety percent of the time. We can be a lot of old duffers, a little naive, slow on the uptake if you will. Not Ernie. And I hope not me, but honestly, poor Susan. The girl just didn't have a clue most of the time, and Justin is as nice as he is gullible.

Ah, well; we had our fun times in those six years that most of us were there. Our common room was usually full of charmed items sent from the Weasley twins which a lot of us had fallen victim to, or Susan pointing her wand at one of the lamps, trying to pronounce a spell only to discover that her lisp got in the way when Cedric or Justin's robes went up in purple flames. Of course, we made her be very careful with her wand in the dormitory. I, for one had a lot of things I valued, including the letter mum sent me when I was sorted into Hufflepuff. I was little worried that she would be disappointed as she had been a Ravenclaw, but the letter was the complete opposite. It still makes me smile when I read it, and it makes me proud like it used to be when I made her proud. Nothing would make me happier than to talk to her again, to tell her about all that's happened, because I _know_ it would make her proud and I could see that smile, and hear _that_ laugh. And be sheltered by familiar arms from everything I'd been frightened of, and all that I couldn't understand since she's been gone.

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**Review if you will. I shall try and upload the next part within the next few days.**


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